


soothe dot com (promo code crooked)

by alotofthingsdifferent



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Fingering, M/M, kink meme stuff, massages are hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:38:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14164020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent
Summary: It’s easy enough; a few people have openings for later tonight, and one guy -- Tommy, it says -- can be there in an hour. He books it before he can stop himself, checks his email for confirmation, and tosses his phone on the couch.Then he showers, throws on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and waits.





	soothe dot com (promo code crooked)

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this prompt](https://podsavethekink.dreamwidth.org/659.html?page=2#cmt15251) on the kink meme, requesting lovett/tommy massage with "accidental" hole touching and possible fingering.

It’s been a hell of a week, and Lovett can’t remember the last time he was this stressed. The lease on their office space is coming due and they haven’t found a new place yet, he’s interviewed six interns and while all of them were intelligent and funny, none of them were quite was he was looking for, and “crazy news week” doesn’t even begin to cover the things that have happened in the last seven days.

He needs a drink, a nap, and a massage. In that order or not, doesn’t matter.

“You could just use Soothe, you know,” Jon says to him as they’re closing up shop for the night, Lovett rolling his neck to work one of the kinks out. “Em and I do it all the time, I can’t believe you haven’t yet.”

Lovett makes a face and scoops Pundit up from where she’s waiting at his feet. “You don’t get weirded out by some stranger just coming into your house and telling you to take your clothes off?” he asks, and Jon laughs at him, full-bodied, like he always does.

“It’s a legitimate business, Lovett. Totally on the up-and up. It’s not some backdoor operation where you pay them under the table for a happy ending or something.”

Lovett smirks, kissing the top of Pundit’s head. “Maybe a happy ending is just what I need right now though, Jon. Got any apps you can recommend for that?”

Jon’s cheeks color even as he’s rolling his eyes. “Shut up, Lovett. Go home, drink a beer, and get a massage. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Jon gets into his car and pulls away from the curb, and Lovett follows him until he turns off on his own street. Pundit’s already dozing by the time they get home, and Jon scratches behind her ears.

“Me too, girl,” he says, and gets her a bowl of water as soon as they’ve gotten inside. He opens a beer for himself and considers what he might want for dinner, but they had a late lunch at the office and he’s not really hungry yet. He turns to grab for his phone, and there’s a twinge his lower back that makes him grimace in pain. “Fuck,” he says under his breath, rubbing at the spot with three fingers. 

_You could just use Soothe, you know._ Jon’s words echo in his head. He lays back on his couch and holds his phone in front of his face, scrolling through Twitter, before finally giving in to his own body’s demands for attention and stress relief and downloading the app. 

It’s easy enough; a few people have openings for later tonight, and one guy -- Tommy, it says -- can be there in an hour. He books it before he can stop himself, checks his email for confirmation, and tosses his phone on the couch.

Then he showers, throws on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and waits.

Tommy shows up exactly at the designated time, to the minute. Lovett’s doorbell rings, and when he opens the door, he comes face to face with a well-defined chest clad in a tight, green t-shirt. He stares for a minute, before the owner of the lovely pectorals clears his throat, and Lovett raises his eyes. The guy -- Tommy -- is smirking, and he’s _hot_ , Lovett’s brain helpfully supplies. “Jon?” he asks, and Lovett nods, taking a step back to motion Tommy inside.

“Call me Lovett, if you want,” Lovett says, watching as the muscles in Tommy’s arm flex as he carries his supplies inside. “Everyone else does.”

“Sure,” Tommy says, and stands there for a moment, looking at Lovett expectantly. “So, where would you like me to set up?”

“Oh!” Lovett says, feeling a little flustered. He hadn’t expected to have a gorgeous, muscular blond as company tonight, and it’s taking his brain a minute to catch up with the fact that this guy is going to be _touching_ him soon. _Fuck._ “Sorry, uh -- just over here is fine, I guess?” He motions to the living area, and Tommy takes stock of the room, eyes darting to the large, curtainless windows.

“That works,” Tommy says, then cocks his head at Lovett. “Unless you’d like a bit more privacy.” He nods towards the windows, and it takes Lovett a minute to realize what he means. “I’m fine with whatever you’re comfortable with, though.”  
“I’m comfortable with whatever you want to give me,” Lovett says, his eyes going a little wide over the words he can’t believe he just let come out of his mouth.

Tommy laughs (his eyes crinkle adorably at the corners, Lovett notices). “Is that so?” he says, playful. “I guess we’ll see how far you’ll let me go, huh?” Then he winks -- _winks_ \-- and ok, Lovett thinks. Ok, this is fine.

“Bedroom?” Lovett manages, then realizes how that sounds. “I mean, you know, since I’ll basically be naked, right? For the -- the massage? Wow, this is really spiraling out of control.” He laughs nervously, and Tommy grins at him, his eyes sparkling.

“First time, huh?” he asks, and Lovett shrugs.

“That obvious?”

“You just seem a little nervous. But don’t worry,” Tommy says. “I’ll take good care of you.”

Lovett leads the way to the bedroom and has no doubt that Tommy will do just that.

**

Twenty minutes later, Lovett’s on his stomach on the massage table, a very small towel covering his ass and his skin shiny with oil. Tommy’s hands are a dream, pressing hard in all the right places, working out the knots and cramps in Lovett’s neck and back. “Relax,” Tommy says softly, trailing his fingers down Lovett’s spine. “I can’t make you feel good if you’re going to be so tense the whole time.”

_Oh you’re making me feel plenty good,_ Lovett thinks, and resists the urge to press his hips into the table beneath him. He’s hard, and he’s sure that’s normal, right? Of course he’s getting turned on, with Tommy’s strong hands moving over his body like this. It doesn’t hurt (help?) that Tommy’s ridiculously hot, but Lovett’s keeping his eyes closed and trying not to think about that.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, letting the coils of tension drain out of him while Tommy works on his lower back. 

“There you go,” Tommy says, and Lovett can’t help but groan when Tommy’s fingers find just the right spot. “Right there?” Tommy asks, and is Lovett imagining it, or has his voice dropped an octave? 

“Yeah,” Lovett whispers. “Feels good.”

Tommy hums, digging his thumbs into the dimples of Lovett’s back, and when the towel shifts lower, over the curve of Lovett’s ass, Tommy’s hands follow. Lovett sucks in a breath, and Tommy stops. “Okay?” he asks, quiet, and Lovett nods, keeping his eyes shut as he gnaws on his lower lip. 

Tommy’s hands knead his ass, and he hears the whisper of the towel hitting the floor as Tommy moves lower, massaging Lovett’s thighs, his calves, his feet. And then his hands are gone, and Lovett isn’t sure what the protocol is here. He assumes this is the end of the massage, and he shifts a little, moving to push himself up onto his elbows, but then he hears the snick of one of Tommy’s bottles of oil, and Tommy’s hand are back on him, high up on the backs of his thighs. His thumbs are tucked between them, and Lovett swallows hard when Tommy starts moving his thumbs in small circles, so close to Lovett’s balls and his hole that if Lovett just -- if he shifted just a little --

He’s doing it before he can stop himself, rocking back into Tommy’s touch, and when the tip of Tommy’s thumbs dip between his cheeks, he gasps, his face flushing red with embarrassment. He figures this will be when Tommy starts laughing and pulls away, saying something about how that’s not what this is, that’s not what Tommy _does_. 

But instead, Tommy’s big hands are spreading Lovett’s cheeks, his fingertips rubbing over Lovett’s hole with clear intent. “Fuck,” Lovett says aloud, and he does push up onto his elbows now, looks over his shoulder to meet Tommy’s eyes. “Fuck, do you -- is this part extra?”

Tommy laughs, and Lovett notices, to his relief, that his cheeks are stained pink. “No,” Tommy says, and when he slips one fingertip past Lovett’s rim, he bites his lip. “I can -- should I stop? I can stop. This isn’t -- I don’t usually just --”

“Don’t stop,” Lovett says, and drops his head back down. He’s about to get fingerfucked by his Soothe therapist in his bedroom at 8:00 on a Friday night, and he can’t believe this is his life right now, but he’s certainly not complaining.

“You’re so tight,” Tommy says, sounding awed, and works another finger in beside the first.

“Yeah, well,” Lovett says breathlessly. “I’m a busy -- ah, right there -- I’m a busy guy, and it’s not every day a hot masseuse shows up at my door and wants to stick his fingers up my ass.” He arches his back a little, urging Tommy deeper, and Tommy complies, crooking his fingers until Lovett’s whining, biting at his own arm.

“Can you come like this?” Tommy asks, slipping his fingers nearly all they way out and then pushing them back in quickly, again and again until Lovett is panting, tears forming at corners of his eyes. 

“I don’t --” Lovett starts, and then Tommy kisses the back of his neck and he’s coming all over the table, clenching hard around Tommy’s fingers. 

“Good answer,” Tommy whispers, right next to Lovett’s ear, and he’s still moving his fingers inside Lovett, slow and easy, until Lovett is whimpering, oversensitized, and trying to squirm away. Tommy eases his fingers out, wipes the oil off on Lovett’s thigh, and smoothes his hand up Lovett’s back, letting it come to rest between his shoulder blades. “Feel good?”

“Mmm,” Lovett hums, pleased. Tommy kisses his shoulder, runs his fingers through Lovett’s hair. 

“Everything you hoped it would be?” Tommy asks, and Lovett opens his eyes, looking at Tommy fondly.

“And more,” he says. “Thanks, babe. Best fake Soothe massage I’ve ever had.”

“Better be the only fake Soothe massage you’ve ever had,” Tommy mumbles, kissing Lovett softly. They’re quiet for a moment, then Tommy whispers, “Love you.”

“Me too,” Lovett says sleeping, and lets Tommy manhandle him up and off the table. 

“Get in bed,” he says, kissing Lovett’s forehead. “I’ll be in soon.”

“Bring me a Diet Coke?” Lovett asks, muffled, from where his face is buried in his pillow already.

“Anything for you, Lovett,” Tommy says, and means it.


End file.
